


Season's Change

by Kastaka



Category: Haibane Renmei
Genre: Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:33:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kastaka/pseuds/Kastaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Songfic to 'Season's Change' by Royal Hunt. Huge quantities of thanks to tree on #yuletide for the last-minute, 'I don't know the fandom but I'll give it a shot' beta of this epic :).</p>
    </blockquote>





	Season's Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_rck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/gifts).



> Songfic to 'Season's Change' by Royal Hunt. Huge quantities of thanks to tree on #yuletide for the last-minute, 'I don't know the fandom but I'll give it a shot' beta of this epic :).

_Images of winter gently move_

Rakka was never sure whether it was colder at the Abandoned Factory than it had been at Old Home, or whether it just always felt colder when you were actually experiencing the cold right now, instead of just remembering it. Bundled up in several layers of jackets, her wings pinned against her back by the weight of them, she still shivered in the cold morning light. The stitching on these wing covers would be very uneven, and the many tiny bloodless holes that the needle had made in Rakka's numb fingers had started to sting. But Mayu needed something to put over her nervously twitching wings which wouldn't confine them painfully, preferably before the young Haibane died of the cold, and it appeared that the art of making the covers had been lost to this community.

As Rakka sewed, she gazed out of the window across one of the open areas inside the Factory. A group of Haibane had formed an impromptu ball field out of the snow, marking the goals and lines with packed mounds of white, raised from the level of the ground, and were kicking a fraying and slightly deflated ball from one end to the other; some laughing and screeching, some silent and earnest, intent on their competition. There appeared to be no particular rules, and the ground had swiftly become a solid sheet of shining ice, causing several players to go sliding across the field on their rears - generally with a surprised expression on their faces - as if they couldn't have anticipated that outcome when they started running around on a sheet of ice.

On the facing wall, a straggly vine was determinedly colonising the torn and rusted remains of what had been a series of rooms linking this side and the other, filling the now-empty space. Hung with frost and icicles, the wood and leaves of the vine were almost indistinguishable from the corroded metal of the structure, and for a moment Rakka imagined that they had all grown in the same way, a vine of iron twisting through the waving and burgeoning girders and beams. From this distance no signs of life could be seen in amongst the wreckage, but Rakka knew that if you looked a little closer, or for long enough that something moved, you would find many small creatures - birds and rodents - huddled in the crevasses that the wall offered in plenty, seeking shelter from the biting wind.

Rakka finished a line of stitching and held up the finished wing-cover critically. Her desire to go and try it on Mayu at once, in case she had measured wrongly or cut out the pattern incorrectly, warred with her desire to finish both of them first, and hence avoid the younger Haibane going outside with just one wing-cover and maybe getting frost-bite in the other wing. In the end the desire which involved staying still in her room, and not braving the echoing corridors and bleak outdoors, won out, and she picked up the quilted material and the template made of the remains of a discarded children's colouring book, ready to mark and cut the other wing's pieces.

* * *

_Fallen, golden leaves._

"Mummy, mummy, why can't I have wings?"

The little girl tugged insistently at her mother's skirt, golden hair flopping accusingly over her blue eyes. Her mother scooped her up in her arms and lifted her into the air.

"They can't fly with them, silly," she admonished.

"I wouldn't want to fly with them," sulked the little girl. "I would just... preen them, and take care of them, and have pretty feathers for everyone to admire."

"But you have such pretty eyes," said the mother, the girl now seated in her arms as she kept walking. "And such a pretty nose, and such beautiful hair. The world wouldn't be able to cope with your wonderfulness if you had wings, too."

"But it's not fair," complained the girl. "They have wings _and_ halos _and_ they're always happy."

"Now, now," said the mother, depositing the child back on the ground, but retaining a grasp on her hand, "you have plenty more reasons to be happy than them."

"I know, I know," said the girl, "they aren't allowed anything new and they have to work and they never complain."

"Maybe if you were satisfied with what you had," said the mother, "and didn't complain about your chores, and were always happy and smiling and nice to people..."

The little girl stuck out her tongue.

"If I could do all of that," she said, "I wouldn't need a halo, or pretty feathery wings. There must be something special about them."

"Don't envy the Haibane," her mother instructed her. "Don't pity them, either. They're what they are, and we're what we are, and that's all there is to it."

* * *

_Sun is hiding far behind the roof,_

It was getting dark by the time Rakka had finished the second wing-cover, although she had stopped for lunch and had gotten distracted by another argument over whether Kabe had been eating more than his share and who was responsible for getting more cooking oil. She needed to start thinking about the evening meal, too. It was important that everyone got a warm meal, the weather being as it was, and it seemed that nobody else here was sufficiently organised or conscientious to cook for more than just themselves, even though the best use of the limited resources available to them was in larger dishes.

Rakka gratefully slipped her gloves back on, wriggling her fingers against the comforting wool. Last winter, she had frogged an old and beyond-repair jumper and re-knit the resulting yarn into thick and well-fitting gloves, amongst other things. She gingerly pushed open the door to her room and stepped quietly into the high-ceilinged, echoing corridor.

The corridor in this section of the Abandoned Factory was two stories high, with ladders leaning against the walls, some fixed and leading up to the few occupied units in the second floor's rooms, others loose and available for visiting any of the less frequently used areas. These mostly had holes in the walls or dangerous tangled messes of ancient springs and metal offcuts keeping them off-limits to habitation. She had managed to get a room opening directly onto the corridor because few of the local Haibane wanted a room with a window facing right out onto one of the main open areas - there was no curtain-rail from which to hang curtains even if she had been able to spare the material for them. Rakka was beyond caring about such things, though, and was happy to have the view out into such a frequently used area.

She turned a corner and began to descend the spiral stairs, the metal still reassuringly solid under her feet. The wooden planks of the area which looked like it had been the main staircase had rotted to dangerous levels, but the 'back stairs' were still safe. Coming out in the concrete-lined corridor of the Factory's basement, Rakka hunted for the underground room that she'd found for Mayu when she fell ill. In this season it was much warmer underground than above.

She knocked twice on the door, and on hearing a weak "Come in," from inside, gently pushed it open.

"Mayu, I brought you some wing covers," she said.

"Oh, Rakka, you shouldn't have," replied Mayu, sitting up with the duvet wrapped around her. "Where did you get the material?"

"It was just lying around," lied Rakka. "Here, it wasn't any trouble at all. Aren't you going to try them on?"

* * *

_Knowing what it means_

"Mummy, mummy, why can't we talk while the people in funny masks are here?"

The little girl was sitting at the dinner table, pushing her vegetables around the plate in an attempt to make it look like she was eating them.

"It's important that they're not distracted, honey," replied her mother, neatly cutting out minuscule portions from her own plate and eating them around the incessant questioning.

"Distracted from what? It's not as if anyone is speaking to them with noises and they might not hear it."

"But they have to concentrate on what the Communicator is saying, dear." The mother dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, and then took another mouthful.

"Why doesn't the Com-moony-cater speak to them with proper words, then?" asked the child. "Don't the people have trouble seeing the sign language through those masks?"

"Maybe they don't understand the same words that we do," said the mother.

"But... um... it seems kind of silly, all that waving hands around."

"Ssh," said the mother, "and eat your vegetables."

"I don't like vegetables."

"But you need them to grow up good and strong."

"I don't _like_ vegetables," whined the little girl, kicking the table leg and making ready to work herself up into a titanic rage.

"Now now, who wanted wings and a halo? The Haibane would never complain about eating their vegetables," tried her mother.

"The Haibane don't grow up at all," concluded the girl, triumphantly. But she'd forgotten what they were arguing about, and absent-mindedly began to eat her vegetables anyway.

* * *

_Days are getting shorter, I can see_

It was dark by the time Rakka was serving up the evening meal, and the huddled masses of the Abandoned Factory's denizens were more subdued than usual as she ladled out their servings of steaming hot bean stew. Mayu had come up to light the oil lamps, flashing Rakka a shy smile, wearing her new wing covers proudly. Kabe caused something of a furor by gulping down his stew quickly and then moving to the end of the table to get more, but it was the kind of lacklustre furor where people felt they ought to say something, rather than one that meant anything. There were a few servings left in any case when Rakka put the large pan back on the hob and went to find a place to sit with her own food.

Mayu had saved a space for her on one of the benches - the kitchen wasn't really big enough to seat everyone, and there were quite a few people camped on the floor cradling their precious bowl of stew, some tucking in with vigour, some just savouring the warmth in their hands and on their faces from the rising heat. She kept looking at Rakka as if she expected the older Haibane to say something, but apart from a vague murmur that might have been "thank you" when she took up the place, Rakka just carefully swirled her stew around until it was cool enough to eat, and then methodically ate her food in silence, seemingly oblivious to Mayu's attempts to gain her attention.

Just across from them, Toshokan was telling the story of his discovery again.

"They were terrified, of course, that the cocoon was going to burst before they could get all the books out of the way. I'm sure you've all seen how much of a mess it can make of a room if you're not prepared. But they could hardly carry them out of the building, because there was a blizzard outside, and it didn't look like it was letting up any time soon. So, with heavy hearts of course - the Library never closes! - they had to mark certain sections out of bounds while they piled up the books from the room I was in, piled them up in the aisles out of harm's way. And then they came to the shelves that I was attached to..."

After the meal, Rakka was pleased to see Mayu and Ame helping to gather the plates and bowls together. Ame had already heated a kettle of water by the time Rakka had finished eating, and they brushed aside her offers of help with the washing-up.

"You've done enough work today," said Ame. "This is meant to be your rest-day, not another day of work!"

"You know that I like to be busy," protested Rakka. "Are you sure you couldn't do with a hand?"

Mayu glanced at Ame in a hopeful kind of manner, but Ame didn't notice, or perhaps just stood her ground in any case.

"Out!" she insisted, threatening Rakka with a ladle. "Out and to bed with you, Rakka, and sweet dreams too."

"I don't dream any more," muttered Rakka under her breath as she left the kitchen, her outer demeanor rather more cheerful than her mutterings would suggest. Mayu gazed after her for a couple of moments, then shook herself out of it and went to help Ame.

* * *

_Chilling tears of fall_

But she did dream.

In her dream she was back in Old Home, cleaning the wings of one of the new feathers, but instead of coming out grey, they had come out black, jet black. The fever-struck child looked up at her, hopeful and fearful and vulnerable. Reki had never told her that it could happen to the little ones too. She considered using the preparation that made the black come out, but remembered the lost feathers and the tattered wings that had resulted. Feeling the fragile wings of the young child, she couldn't bring herself to inflict such a thing on them.

The dream child attracted comment amongst the children, of course, and worried silence amongst the older Haibane, but in herself she seemed happy and carefree. In her dreams, Rakka did not mention the child to the Haibane Renmei, and they did not advise her.

Nemu took the child to the Temple when it was time.

The other children questioned Nemu on what had happened, but all Nemu would say was that the child had been taken somewhere to be with people like her, that she had been sent where she belonged.

In the dream, Rakka was happy with that explanation. In the dream, Rakka went on with her life, normal and content, went on with her job and her happy days at the Old Home.

When Rakka woke, in her room in the Abandoned Factory, she was crying. She couldn't tell what she was crying for, whether it was the child in the dream, the child in reality, or the lost hope in her own life.

Even though the tears just made her colder, she couldn't stop.

* * *

_Running down for you and leaving me_

"Mummy, mummy," said the little girl, looking up from her dressing-up chest, "why aren't the Haibane allowed anything new?"

"I suppose it's to make sure there's enough to go around," replied her mother cautiously.

"But we're allowed new things," said the girl, with a tone which implied she had found a vital flaw in the argument.

"But we're not Haibane," replied the mother, as if that settled matters.

"I don't see why we can have new things and they can't," attempted the girl again, trying to state the question to get through her mother's stonewalling.

"Look," said the mother. "You've said before that you're jealous of the Haibane. That you want wings, and a halo, and their attitude to life."

"I guess," said the girl, unsure. "But I'd rather be able to wear pretty dresses."

"Exactly," said her mother triumphantly. "If Haibane were allowed new things, then people would resent having them around. Because they're special. Or just because they're different. But because they are only allowed old things, and they have to work, people like to have them around."

"What does resent mean?" asked the girl.

"If you resent something, it means that you don't like it because you think it isn't fair."

"But I have new things, and I don't do much work," said the girl. "Why don't people resent me?"

"Because you're a human," replied her mother, "and they know that one day you'll grow up and then you will _make_ new things and it will all be paid for."

"Why don't the Haibane make new things?"

"Sometimes they do," replied her mother. "It depends what work they get to do."

"But if the Haibane already make new things, why would someone resent them getting them?"

"Individual Haibane aren't around for very long," explained her mother, "so they don't have time to learn as many skills as humans do. So they can't be as good at making things as humans, and they usually have to be supervised heavily - I mean, you can't just leave them to do things, you have to tell them what to do all the time."

The little girl was quiet for a moment, digesting all of that.

"I wouldn't like to have to work, _and_ to be told what to do all the time," she said at length. "And have to make things for people, but never get to use them until they're old and worn out." She paused again, deep in thought.

"Mummy, mummy, why don't the Haibane resent us?"

* * *

_Out here in the cold_

When she left for work that day, Rakka found a summons from the Haibane Renmei waiting for her at the door. Carefully, she took it down, rolled it up, and put it in her pocket. She took her name-key from the wall, stuffed her hands in her pockets, looked around to see if anyone had seen her, and then she started to walk. Not towards the town, not towards the temple, not towards Old Home, but away from all three. She did not notice Mayu watching from a window, watching Rakka leaving into the falling snow with her head down and her stride determined.

Rakka kept walking as the melting snow began to sink into her worn-out shoes and dampen her feet; as the airborne flakes caked against her clothing and transformed her into a walking snowman; as the grey sky turned to sunrise behind her. There was no path where she was walking, and occasionally she would stumble and catch herself, but she did not fall. She kept a close eye on the ground, mindful of her fall into the well in earlier, more peaceful times. She did not look up, or around. What good would it do to discover that she was being followed?

The forest cut the biting wind to a dull roaring amongst the trees, and the struggle with the elements receded far enough for her to think. What was she doing out here? She didn't want to die. Or rather, she knew that she couldn't. If she fell and was covered in snow, if she buried herself deliberately amongst the leaves, if she climbed a tall tree and attempted to remain until she starved or froze, they would come for her, and they would find her. If she touched the wall, she would be a burden on her friends again until she recovered, and she had seen the waterways under and within the wall - there was no escape there, either.

In time she found that her footsteps had taken her to where they had found Kuu's halo. She looked up into the sky, blinking the snow out of her eyes.

"Take me, then," she said, "if you're going to."

She began to take off her layers, one by one, ignoring the chill as it seeped in. Her black wings unfolded, freed from their confines, a shock of pain running through her as they encountered the bitter cold.

* * *

_Since you left whatever I would do -_

"Ame, Toshokan..." began Mayu, and then she faltered.

"What is it?" asked Ame, who was fixing herself a sandwich.

"It's Rakka," replied Mayu.

"Oh, yeah, I saw the notice," said Toshokan confidently. "Has she been back already? I saw that her name-key had gone."

"She didn't go to the temple," said Mayu, haltingly. "Well, not straight there, at least."

Ame and Toshokan stopped bustling around the kitchen, as did several other Haibane who were within overhearing distance.

"Where did she go, then?" asked Ame.

"I don't know," said Mayu. "Off towards... nowhere, really. I don't know what's in that direction."

"Show us," suggested Toshokan, starting to move towards the door.

Mayu let herself be herded towards the door, and found herself leading a procession of Haibane out of the factory.

* * *

_Nothing comes out right_

"Maybe I don't want to be a tailor."

The girl was fighting with a needle and thread, attempting to sew on a button to a shirt.

"But what do you want to be?" asked her mother.

"Maybe I don't want to grow up at all."

"You can't do that," replied her mother. "Remember, one day I won't be here any more, and you'll have to earn your own money and make your own way."

"I know." Her grandfather had died a few months ago, and now she understood something of death: that some day it would happen to her mother, and that some day it would happen to her.

"Then you know you've got to grow up sometime."

"But I'm no good at anything!" The girl was on the verge of tears, and picked this moment to prick her finger with the needle, which didn't help.

"Give it time," advised her mother. "There are plenty of things you haven't even tried yet."

The girl thought for a moment.

"I know what I _want_ to be," she said. "But I don't know how you do it and I don't know how you practice."

"What do you want to be?" asked her mother.

"I want to be the Communicator," said the girl. "I want to learn that sign language and talk to the people who live outside the walls."

Her mother was silent for a moment, formulating a response.

"But there's only one of those," she started. "And so you'd have to be really good at it and even then you'd only get to do it when they were gone. And I don't know that we've had a different one for as long as I've been alive."

"I know I can talk to people, though," said the girl, "and I can put people at their ease, and I can get things out of people just by asking them."

"Some of that's because you're young, though," warned her mother. "You wouldn't be able to rely on your appearance to get your way, not in that mask."

"I could learn, though."

"Maybe you should learn to be a shopkeeper," suggested her mother. "It would be good practice - you have to talk to people who have made things you want to sell, and keep your customers happy, and all that kind of thing. Your uncle owns a shop. We could see if he needs a hand, and you could start there."

"I guess," said the girl. Then she brightened. "Does that mean I don't have to do any more sewing?"

* * *

_I'm fighting through another lonely day,_

Mayu took over cooking the evening meals, although she was clumsy and ill-suited to the task. Despite the occasional waste of food and the unreliable quality of the results, nobody dared to complain to her face, and attendance was as high as ever. Nobody could bring themselves to face those hollow, piercing eyes, the quiet apology, the accusing looks they would get from the other Haibane. Mayu's wings had begun to mottle, black spots appearing on the grey feathers, and this made people even less willing to talk to her. They'd heard that kind of thing was contagious. Not from physical proximity, but from ideas.

Ame insisted on helping Mayu with the cooking, and what she lacked in skill she made up with enthusiasm, a quality distinctly lacking from Mayu after Rakka's disappearance. Some fresh snow had fallen between her setting out and the search party assembling itself, but Rakka had been making no attempt to hide her footprints, and she was easy to track into the forest, to the place where her dull halo, several jackets, and a single black feather lay.

"It happens," Ame had said. But Mayu had just stared blankly at the remains, tears rising unbidden in the corners of her eyes, while the rest of the searchers argued over and divvied up the coats, and debated who should take the halo. Eventually, Mayu bent over, picked up the feather, and tucked it in a pocket. Then she had turned and started back to the Factory, Ame walking by her side but unable to get through to her.

It became Ame's personal project to cheer up Mayu. She would chatter happily to the other girl, enduring her monosyllabic replies, keep her up to date with the gossip, ask her how her day had been. When other Haibane were having lively conversations, Ame would try and involve Mayu in them. When games were organised, Ame would encourage Mayu to take part. For her part, Mayu quietly went along with everything Ame attempted, but with such an air of sadness and hopelessness that it would often ruin whatever activity was happening. Nothing seemed to matter to Mayu any more, nothing seemed to make her smile or laugh, or indeed demonstrate any kind of emotion.

Ame often sat Mayu down somewhere and tried to talk her out of her mood, but the effort was wasted.

"Mayu?"

"Ame?"

"Why do you do this to yourself? Why can't you just be happy?"

Mayu just shrugs.

"Leaving the nest is not a terrible thing. It happens to us all, some day."

Most of the time Mayu would just bow her head at this and refuse to talk any further. Once, she told Ame in a low tone, "Go away." And once she exploded into the greatest show of emotion that Ame had yet managed to provoke:

"She has not left the nest," said Mayu fiercely, her eyes burning with fury rather than hollow with loss. "Did you not see the feather?"

"It's only one feather," pointed out Ame, "and it had fallen out."

"No," said Mayu, "her wings were like that. I'm sure of it."

"And anyway, that's just a superstition, right? Rakka's leaving the nest proved that, surely?"

"She did nothing of the sort," insisted Mayu, "and if I was stronger - if I was braver - if I had an ounce of courage in all my frame, I would go and I would find her."

Then the life went out of Mayu again, and she bowed her head and began to cry, very softly, without a fuss.

"But I don't. And I'm not. And I won't," she said, almost inaudibly amongst the tears.

* * *

_Another sleepless night._

Ame visited her in the middle of the night, to find her still sitting up in bed, still staring at the wall.

"Mayu?"

"Ame."

"Don't you sleep?"

"No."

"You should get some sleep. Seriously."

"How?"

"Well, you lie down, you pull the covers up around you, and you close your eyes. That's a good start."

"As you say."

Mayu obeyed Ame's instructions that night, but Ame did not trust that this situation would continue. When she snuck into Mayu's room another night, Mayu was staring at the wall again.

Ame just closed the door and left without a word.

"I saw you, last night," Mayu said, at breakfast that morning. It was the first thing she had said of her own accord - rather than as an answer to a question - for quite some time.

* * *

_Dreaming 'bout wings to fly away_

In her dreams, the girl was the Communicator.

It was a very important job. Glie needed supplies from outside the walls, especially new books, but also metals and certain kinds of stone and other materials which just couldn't be acquired within the walls, and it had little to offer in return. It was only a small town and most of its production was needed to keep the people in it alive and clothed and sheltered. She liked to offer art, or books written within the walls, or sometimes farm produce if the harvests had been especially good.

The sign language wasn't especially difficult now she had picked it up. She had learnt that the reason you wore all the ceremonial gear was that body language differed between the outsiders and the residents of Glie. If you acted natural then you would probably deeply offend the other party. So you stayed as still as possible and communicated only in this neutral language of signing that conveyed exact meanings, being careful not to accent it at all. The insistence on not using a spoken language suddenly made sense. It would be much harder to keep intonation out of a spoken language than to suppress body language in a well-defined method of signing. There are no bad habits that you've already learnt by using that kind of language in another context.

There was something wrong, though. Something out of place. She puzzled over it every morning when she woke up and tried to savour the dream, while she dressed and went off to work as a shop assistant for her uncle, doing much less important business and having to deal with much less interesting (and in many ways, much less pleasant) people. Finally, she worked out what it was. The Communicator was not a human. They couldn't be. They must be a Haibane.

In her next dream, she could feel the wings, twitching unobserved beneath the Communicator's outfit, and she woke up disappointed, knowing that she would never be the Communicator, for she had not been born that way.

One day she would make an excellent shopkeeper, though, her uncle told her.

* * *

_But as I was told_

One of the young feathers tugged at Nemu's trouser-leg.

"Nemu, Nemu!" they called. "There's someone at the door for you!"

It was a puzzle to all the Haibane of Old Home that Nemu had not had her Day of Flight. Kana joked that she had probably slept through it. But her halo still shone steadily and her wings were intact and grey, and she had not Flown.

At the door of Old Home stood Mayu, a small dark-haired figure with wide brown eyes. Hope warred with fear within them.

"Nemu," she said, "I'm Mayu, of Abandoned Factory. I wanted to talk to you about Rakka."

"Your wings," said Nemu. She didn't need to finish the sentence.

"I don't want to talk about my wings," said Mayu defensively.

"But we can fix them," said Nemu.

* * *

_Brokenhearted can't, they're cursed to stay_

"Has anyone seen Mayu?" called Ame across the crowded breakfast hall.

"Since when?" called back Toshokan.

"Yesterday evening, at tea," replied Ame.

"Maybe she overslept," offered Kabe, piling his plate high with pancakes.

"She's not in her room."

The kitchen returned to its normal bustle, seemingly unaffected by the news.

"Isn't anyone concerned at all?" asked Ame, frustrated.

"Well, you, obviously," noted Toshokan.

"Aargh!" yelled Ame. "Aren't we going to go and find her or something?"

"Why bother?" asked Kabe. "She'll be back, or she won't ever be back and there's nothing we can do about it."

"Why bother?" shrieked Ame. Then she thought for a moment about the other perspective in this conversation. "Because who's going to cook your food tonight if she isn't back, Kabe?"

"Oh, right," rumbled Kabe, inhaling a couple of pancakes. "Yeah, we should look for her. Any ideas?"

"Someone should go to the forest," Toshokan pointed out, "in case she really has gone - nobody but her saw anything when Rakka went, after all. Her feather should be pretty easy to identify."

"And someone should check her place of work," said Yami, a practical-minded boy with short sandy hair. "Maybe she just went in early this morning."

"Maybe she's gone to Old Home," piped up Tori, a young-looking girl with long brown bunches. "She misses Rakka so much, and Rakka came from there."

"Do you know the way there?" Ame asked. "I've never been."

"I came from there too," said Tori. "I was one of their young feathers. I can take you, if you like."

* * *

_Out here in the cold_

It was strange, not having wings. Her shoulder-blades twitched where the weight had fallen away. In contrast, she would have hardly noticed the absence of her halo if it had not been for the head coverings that she had to wear instead.

They had taken her halo first, two of them holding her body still, two of them holding her head, and one to wrench it out of place. Her wings fell limp at once, although they were already numb from the cold, so it was not altogether surprising when she had not felt them pluck a feather and lay it artistically beside the halo on the ground. The one carrying her halo (rather than the four who then picked her up and carried her) had taken exaggerated care to cover their tracks to begin with, but after a few hundred yards he had stopped and they had proceeded at a march through the forest towards the temple. She had been deposited without ceremony on a stone slab and before she knew what was happening, her wings were gone, a little raw skin all that remained to mark that she had ever had them.

They had handed her the robes and given her an alcove to change in. It was warm inside the temple, or at least inside the part she was in. Obviously they had some kind of powered heating here. When she had finished putting on her robes, they told her - silently - to sit and think for a while.

They didn't tell her what to think about. She tried not to think about the child.

* * *

_This change of a season is over and done_

The search party met Kana at the door of Old Home.

More accurately, Kana almost ran down the search party, flying out of the door of Old Home on her bicycle. Swerving to avoid them, she turned the bicycle on its side and skidded to an undignified halt. Picking herself up and dusting herself down, she gave the assembled a defiant stare.

"What do you want?" she asked boldly.

"Um," said Ame, "we're looking for Mayu. About half a foot shorter than you, black hair..."

"She the one Nemu's been talking to all night?" asked Kana impatiently.

"Maybe?" offered Ame helplessly.

"Look, why don't we just go in and have a look around," suggested Toshokan.

"No!" exclaimed Kana. "I mean, you can't go in there, you're, like, boys."

"You have male children," pointed out Kabe.

"That's not the same," protested Kana. "Um, I guess that the girls can go in. Oh, hi, Tori, didn't see you there. How's life treating you?"

"It's okay," replied Tori. "But right now we're looking for Mayu, not paying a social visit. Sorry."

"Um, sure, okay," said Kana. "Uh, I'll wait out here, with the guys," she glared suspiciously at the male complement of the party, "and you two go in and have a look around, okay? Nemu's in the building with the flat roof, first floor, but the kids can show you around, and I guess Tori probably remembers, she hasn't moved. Sorry, it's been a while, I keep forgetting."

Tori had grabbed Ame's hand and started into the building at the second 'okay', not waiting for the remains of Kana's speech. They were immediately surrounded by curious young feathers, led by those who recognised Tori and wanted to ask her all kinds of questions about the Abandoned Factory. Tori brushed them all off - "Not right now", "I'm busy", "I'll come back later, I promise" - and made steady progress towards Nemu's room, dragging an unprotesting and mostly ignored Ame behind her.

* * *

_Won't look for a reason...just sad that you're gone_

Finally they made it to Nemu's door, and their frantic knocking was answered by Mayu herself. She looked more alive and animated than she had since she started pining after Rakka, let alone since Rakka had gone.

"Oh," she said, "I hadn't realised how the time was getting on." She looked back into the room. "Nemu, I'm really sorry!"

"Don't worry," said Nemu, "some people like to tell me that I've had enough sleep for the next ten years already."

"And Ame," she said, "oh Ame, I'm so, so sorry, I've been absolutely horrible to you. It's okay. I don't understand everything - in fact, it makes less sense than ever - but. Well. I can't go on like that. Or I shouldn't."

"Don't worry," said Ame, opening her arms as if to invite Mayu to hug her, "everything's going to be just fine."

Mayu embraced Ame, and they remained there for a moment, forgiving each other. Then Tori's insistent tugging on Ame's shirt caught her attention.

"What?" asked Ame, breaking apart to turn and look at Tori.

"Um, shouldn't we go and rescue the others?" asked Tori.

"Good point," said Ame. "Some girl on a bicycle has quarantined the boys at the door," she explained for the benefit of Mayu and Nemu.

"Oh, that'll be Kana," said Nemu, yawning. "You'd better go and rescue them, yes. Do feel free to drop by whenever you like, though. We always have some tea and biscuits in the kitchen for guests."

"Thanks," called Ame as Tori began to march them off.

"Thank you for everything!" added Mayu, before she was out of earshot.

* * *

_Every single word you've ever said_

"You must have loved her very much," commented Ame off-handedly, while they were washing the dishes one evening.

"I guess I did," said Mayu, absent-mindedly. "I mean, I did. But also, I couldn't have done," she continued more confidently

"What do you mean?" asked Ame curiously.

"I'd have said something," replied Mayu. "If I'd loved her enough. Or, I don't know. I'd have done something. I'd have been there for her. I'd have tried to get her to open up. I'd have found out all these things earlier. I'd have asked her why her wings were black."

"Did you even know her wings were black?" asked Ame. "She always kept them covered up."

"I watched her closely," admitted Mayu, "and I saw her drop black feathers, once or twice, and sometimes you could see the base of her wings, or through those linen wing covers when the sun shone in the right way in the summer, and they were all black."

"She probably didn't want to be asked about it, though," Ame reassured her, "when she'd gone to such efforts to cover it up."

"I never even asked her why she'd left Old Home. That would have been fairly innocuous," insisted Mayu.

"Did Nemu tell you?" asked Ame, curiously.

"No," said Mayu. "Well, not exactly. The Haibane who looked after her just out of the cocoon had just flown, and then there was something to do with two cocoons hatching at once. Nemu took one new feather, and Rakka took the other. They were both very young. There was something wrong with Rakka's, and then Nemu kind of skipped over a bit to when Rakka fled to here."

"Maybe we should take up her offer to go back some time," suggested Ame.

"You can if you like," replied Mayu cooly. "I don't think I need to know. I don't want to upset Nemu."

"I'll pick you up some more ointment, then," said Ame.

* * *

_Is ringing in my ears_

"From Mayu," lied Ame, handing Nemu the red bell-nut.

"That's a long way out of season," said Nemu, hanging it from a shelf by wedging it into the join between two planks of wood.

"I guess," said Ame vaguely.

"Should we go down to the kitchen? I'm sure the others will be pleased to see you again," suggested Nemu.

"First I wanted to ask you a question," said Ame.

"Okay," said Nemu. "Come in, sit on the bed. I'm afraid I haven't got any chairs at the moment."

Ame crossed the room and sat down on Nemu's bed, attempting to look more confident than she felt.

"What happened to Rakka's child?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Nemu, affecting an air of confusion. She was not very expert in disguising her feelings and Ame could see right through her prevarication.

"There was a cocoon, or maybe two, but with two Haibane in, anyway," continued Ame, "and you took one of them and Rakka took the other. And then Rakka ran away, but you skipped over the bit in the middle."

Nemu looked rather taken aback. "Does Mayu tell you everything?" she asked, as a stop-gap question to give her time to think.

"More or less," replied Ame noncommittally.

"Ame," said Nemu, "is this important to Mayu, or is this a question you are asking in your own capacity?"

"It's important to Mayu," lied Ame. "She wasn't brave enough to come back, so she sent me to ask you."

"Right," sighed Nemu. "I suppose I should tell you, then."

Nemu looked for a moment as if she was going to sit on the bed next to Ame, but something about the other girl made her change her mind, and she started pacing up and down the room instead.

"Rakka's child had trouble leaving the cocoon," she said. "After mine was out, it kept struggling for an hour or so, and then the struggles started to become weaker. Rakka was becoming increasingly frantic, even though she knew that sometimes this kind of thing happened. In the end she couldn't bear it any longer, and she tore open the cocoon herself. You know that you don't do that, right?"

Ame nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else, in case she gave away that she was the one who was interested and not Mayu.

"The child survived, perhaps unfortunately. She wasn't strong enough to walk or crawl, and she didn't seem to know how to speak, although she looked old enough that she should know. She could just about sit up if you put her in a sitting position, and Rakka taught her how to eat with a spoon and a bowl, which she didn't know at first either. Obviously we couldn't get her name, because we didn't know what her dream was."

"When her wings came out, Rakka cleaned them well, but they cleaned up black instead of grey." Nemu paused a moment to let this sink in. "You would have thought Rakka would know that it was okay, that it could be fixed, but no, she went completely insane. Started insisting that this child was the reincarnation of Reki , despite the poor thing having golden hair and blue eyes. Demanded the rest of the ointment and started applying it to the wings straight away. I had a talk with her, and she agreed to ask the Temple what she should do about the child when she went to work there in the morning."

Nemu paused again, as if the next part was particularly hard to word.

"She came back from the temple, escorted by one of the Haibane Renmei. I've never heard of them leaving the temple before or since. They took the child. Neither of them ever came back. We found out that Rakka had run off to the Abandoned Factory, but we never did hear of the child again."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Neither Haibane met the other's eyes. Neither knew what to say.

"Um," said Ame at length. "About the ointment..."

* * *

_Making me remember what I had._

Dear Diary,

The Haibane were in the shop again today. Every time I see them now, my shoulder-blades itch. The dreams didn't go away. Sometimes I duck further than I need to, so that I don't hit my halo on something. I wonder how it stays up there. Sumika from the Library says they're not born with the halos, they get them put on later. Apparently there was one born in the Library a few years ago. But it just grew its own wings, and only a day or so after it was born.

I wonder if you can put a halo on a human.

Yours faithfully,

Suzuki Yamai.

* * *

_This burning trail of tears_

"Excuse me?"

Ame was on her way home from her job at the butcher's shop when a young-looking, but surprisingly well-spoken, girl walked up next to her.

"Yes?" she asked in return.

"I was just wondering," said the girl, "it's silly really, and I don't mind if you don't want to answer..."

"Spit it out, then," smiled Ame, trying to mask her impatience (she had a bag full of food for tonight's stew and she needed to get back to put it on).

"How do you get your halos?" asked the girl.

Ame looked a little dubious, but answered in good spirit.

"Well, you get it from the Haibane Renmei, then you heat it up in an oven, and then you just put it in the right position and hope it sticks," she said.

"But what's the right position?" asked the girl.

"It's different for each Haibane," replied Ame. "And sometimes it doesn't stay on at all, it just flies off in all directions, so you have to tie it on with a wire for a while."

"Doesn't it burn your head, if you heat it up in an oven and then put it on?"

Ame masked a sigh as a yawn. That sounded like it was going to be a long argument.

"Um, I could do with getting home now, and you seem to have lots of questions. Why don't you drop by the factory sometime? It's just over the bridge." When the girl looked crestfallen, she added, "you could walk with me now if you like, although you probably should wait to visit until the morning of a rest day. I wouldn't want to inflict dinner time at the Factory on you."

The girl looked pleased, and quietly trailed her to the bridge without further hassle, even though at times she seemed to be struggling to keep up.

"Okay, I see now," she said when they got to the bridge. "Bye."

"Um, bye," replied Ame, as the girl turned and practically fled back towards the town.

* * *

_Leading me away into the night..._

"And I'm sorry, but they didn't have any ointment," concluded Ame. She looked triumphant, as if Mayu should congratulate her or something, but Mayu just looked down at her feet and shook her head slowly.

"Ame," she asked sadly, "why did you hassle Nemu about this? I told you not to."

"I was curious," said Ame defensively. "Anyway, I found out how to make more ointment. So we can still get you some."

"Great," said Mayu, unenthusiastically.

"Look, don't take it like that," pleaded Ame.

"I don't see how I should take it," said Mayu stiffly. "You used my name to get information that hurts her to recall out of a gentle soul who's never done anyone any harm, and who I'd specifically told you not to talk to about it."

"You didn't really say it like that," protested Ame. "You just said you weren't interested."

Mayu just looked sadly at her until Ame felt obliged to change the subject.

"Anyway," said Ame, "we need to get some leaves from the western forest. Are you coming, or are you going to leave me to be eaten by bears and fall in holes?"

"Okay," said Mayu, still somewhat unhappy but not willing to lose Ame over it. "I'm coming."

* * *

_Closer to my fall._

"I don't think we should have come this far."

The pair of Haibane had just emerged from the line of the forest into a sudden clearing, and it was painfully obvious that they couldn't see the moon any more. The shadow of the Wall loomed over them, blocking out its light. Mayu hung back in the tree cover, looking nervously from side to side.

"Maybe we should have done this in the light," she added.

"No, no, they have to be picked at midnight," said Ame. "Weren't you listening?"

"We could go home," suggested Mayu, "then come back when it's light and find where the right trees _are_ , and then we can come back again at midnight. But straight to the right place, instead of this wandering around."

"I'm not going to be defeated by a stupid forest," declared Ame. "Look, over there, isn't that one?"

Mayu shone the flashlight they had 'borrowed' from a storeroom in the direction that Ame was pointing. There, indeed, was a tree matching the description. Unfortunately, it was several steps further out into the cleared area.

"Ame," warned Mayu, "no. There must be another one. It's a trap."

"Don't be so melodramatic," laughed Ame. "Here, we've found it. If you're so scared, just keep the flashlight pointed in the right direction and hand me the basket."

Mayu tightened her grip on the basket. "No," she said. "It's not that important. The black flecks will probably grow out on their own now anyway. It's not like the colour of your wings means anything. It's what's in your heart that counts. And my heart is saying that we shouldn't go any closer to the Wall."

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat," complained Ame, tugging at the basket. "Give that here!"

"No!"

There followed a brief struggle. Ame was much stronger than Mayu and generally better at this kind of thing, but she didn't want to hurt her friend in the process of liberating the basket and Mayu was quite determined not to let go.

It was almost in slow motion that Ame finally liberated the basket, with enough force to send her tumbling head over heels across the cleared area towards the wall. Almost, but not with that quality of actual slowness that would mean it could have been stopped by either party.

Mayu couldn't watch. In a blind panic, dropping the flashlight, she ran back into the dark woods.

* * *

_Season's changing, turning out the light_

Nemu delivered the unconscious body of Ame to the Abandoned Factory at breakfast the next morning. Apparently the Haibane Renmei member, or someone entirely indistinguishable from them, had appeared at the door of her room in the early hours of the morning, and left Ame with her. It was impossible to tell what colour Ame's wings were naturally at the moment, as they were charred and burnt down to the wing-spars, with her back showing similar blisters.

It was as if someone had turned the lights out in Mayu's eyes again. She did not go to work, but tended to Ame, putting some other ointment that Midori provided onto the blisters and the charred remnants of the wings, carefully feeding her soup to keep her strength up, just sitting there and being with her. Ame was able to swallow, and occasionally her eyes would flutter open, look out as if on some kind of incomprehensible horror, and then close again.

The girl visited the Abandoned Factory, was told that Ame was unavailable, and interrogated Midori for two hours on the source and properties of the Haibane halo. Eventually her mother turned up at the gates and angrily escorted her home.

* * *

_Out here in the cold_

"Ah, so you did return."

Rakka stamped the snow off her boots as she made her way through the temple garden.

"Of course I did," she said, wryly. "What else could I have done?"

"Anything," replied Washi.

"I'm not like that," said Rakka. "Not any more."

"But you are," insisted Washi, "or you wouldn't be here."

"What would you have had me do instead?" asked Rakka. "Reveal myself to Nemu? Rampage around revealing the 'truth' about the Haibane Renmei?"

"The thoughts had crossed my mind," admitted Washi.

"What good would that do?" asked Rakka, rhetorically. "Why would I want to break more of them, the way that the world broke me?"

"I am not inside your mind, little nut," replied Washi affectionately, "as much as I might like to pretend otherwise."

"Don't call me that," snapped Rakka.

"As you wish," replied Washi, infuriatingly calm.

Rakka made a rude gesture and stalked off in the direction of her cell.

* * *

_Disappearing very slow - this line of footsteps in the snow..._

It was not a surprise to anyone when the flash of light announced Nemu's departure. Tori ran down to Old Home to find out who it was, and ran back with the news. After sharing it round everyone in the common area, where Yami was serving food, she went down to Mayu's room to deliver the news to her.

"Mayu?" asked Tori tentatively.

"Tori," acknowledged Mayu flatly.

"Nemu's Flown," said Tori bluntly, opening the door and walking into the room.

"Right," replied Mayu absently.

"What?" said Ame, suddenly sitting upright. Both of the other girls recoiled in surprise, Mayu being the first to recover. The light came back into her eyes and she gazed at Ame, disbelief and relief warring in her features.

"Ame!" she cried. "You're okay!"

Ame's wings had grown back perfectly grey, although they were still bare and tattered in places where they might never fully heal.

"It's okay," said Ame, with some obvious awareness of the melodrama of the moment. "I forgive you."

"I don't understand," said Mayu, sounding slightly hurt and bewildered. "What was it about the news that woke you?"

"If Nemu has flown," said Ame, as if spelling something out very simply for the hard of understanding, "that means that they're not blaming her for what happened. And that means I haven't damned an innocent Haibane. And that means everything's okay."

"Did you two want to join the walking party?" asked Tori. "You can probably catch it if you're quick."

"I'm not sure I can be quick," warned Ame, stretching uncomfortably. "Too much time in bed is bad for you."

"That's what people always used to tell Nemu," said Tori, and then she looked suddenly guilty, as if she shouldn't say such things. But the smiles on the faces of the other two Haibane convinced her that she was okay.

* * *

_Spirit of my better days living on the edge_

As soon as she saw the flash of light, Suzuki Yamai threw on her biggest coat over her nightdress, jumped into her boots, and abseiled out of the window on the knotted-sheet rope she had prepared earlier and coiled up innocently behind the curtain. She hit the ground running and sprinted down the street, mostly looking at her feet but occasionally looking up to check her bearings. Running out of breath, she cursed her lack of foresight. She should have stolen some rollerskates at least, or maybe even one of those cool motor-scooter things that they'd had at the Abandoned Factory. She slowed to a more sustainable jog, the cold night air scouring her lungs with every breath, but her determination keeping her from flagging. 

She'd plotted a route carefully, through the middle of the line between the Old House and the Abandoned Factory, so at least if she was too slow she should be able to avoid meeting a large group of Haibane in a darkened forest. She didn't know what their opinion would be on her attempt to steal one of their precious halos, but she was reasonably sure she wouldn't like it, even though they seemed such harmless creatures. People. Creatures. And even if they didn't do anything, they might report her to the shadowy figures of the Haibane Renmei. Whilst she hadn't heard any solid information about them, there were always the horror stories that children told each other, about kidnappings in the night and slavery in the deep forest where they held their council.

As her feet pounded the hard ground, she had plenty of time to reflect on her scheme. Getting the halo was only the first part. Then she would need to keep it hidden from her mother, and make, buy or borrow some kind of appropriate container to heat it up in. She'd seen the bakery selling round pastries in a suspiciously similar shape, so perhaps she could talk her way into borrowing whatever they had made those in - claim that she was making some kind of special treat for New Year's or something. And then she would need an oven, which might be the hardest part of all. Even sneaking into the bakery might not help - they might not keep their ovens running all night.

There was nothing she could do about the wings except to wish her itching shoulder blades into action, which she sadly doubted they had in them, but a halo would be a start. Maybe then she could stop feeling uncomfortable in her own skin, born into the wrong body.

* * *

_Be it so and let it be..._

The assembled Haibane were left with a puzzling sight when they finally came to the place where Nemu had ascended. It had taken them some time to assemble, as Tori had delayed the party leaving so that Ame and Mayu could join it, and then they had gone at a very slow pace to allow the hobbling Ame to keep up with the pack. And then there was nothing to see after all - no feather, no halo.

"There was definitely light!" insisted Kana. "There was light and Nemu was gone and her halo had been changing and it was just like Kuu! And there isn't a halo! And it's all wrong!"

"There was no light for Rakka," whispered Mayu, but nobody heard her.

* * *

_'coz as far as I can see_

He found the girl in the bakery when they opened it for business the next morning. She was walking slowly around the room, like someone on a balance bar, with a shining halo floating above her head.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Uh, hello, little lady," he said, awkwardly. "I don't suppose you can tell me where to find your parents?"

"Seven Grocer's Lane," she said automatically.

"Can you, ah, do you want to follow me there?" he asked. "I don't want to leave you alone here, is the thing."

"I guess," she said, worriedly.

The baker's assistant and the girl with the halo made their way silently through the pre-dawn streets towards her mother's house. He knocked on the door gingerly.

"Coming!" called a muffled voice inside.

There were muffled footsteps inside the house, and then the door swung open. When her mother set eyes upon her, she let out a little shriek, before she managed to compose herself.

"Suzuki Yamai, get inside this house right now," she admonished. The little girl ducked around her and ran into the house, terrified of the tone of voice her mother had used. "And you," she said, turning to the luckless baker's assistant. "Do you know where the Temple is?"

"Uh, no, ma'am," he stuttered.

"Then get inside my house and make sure my girl doesn't leave it," commanded the woman.

* * *

_There's no way to escape this season's change._

A little girl with a headdress left the town with her mother, never to be seen in Glie again.

Some time later, a representative of the Haibane Renmei came to town. They announced that they regretted the whole affair with Suzuki Yamai very deeply, and they would ensure nothing of the kind happened in the future. Rakka called the Communicator a bastard for making her deliver that message.

Later that year, Ame and Mayu left for the Western Forest, and a flash of light correctly announced their departure. 

 


End file.
